


Wendigo

by lifeofsnark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Desperate Sex, M/M, Wendigo, anal fucking, on the side of the Impala, that happens, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofsnark/pseuds/lifeofsnark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending to Wendigo:</p>
<p>“Sam, fuck, what are you doing?” </p>
<p>“You know what I’m doing. It’s been four years, Dean, four fucking years, and these last couple weeks have killed me. I’m sorry I hurt you when I left, but you’ve got to let that go now.”</p>
<p>The answer that Dean had been formulating flew out the window when Sam’s mouth, wet and hot, closed around his dick. Sam’s head bobbed, and Dean reached down to push back Sam’s bangs so he could get a better look- yeah, fuck Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wendigo

There had been tension hanging in the air between them ever since Sam left Stanford, ever since the trunk of the Impala slammed shut the night Jess burned. They’d been on the road for a couple weeks and in a lot of ways things were the same; they fell back into routine like wheels into ruts- Sam took the left bed and Dean took the right; Sam picked the lunch place and Dean picked for dinner; at gas stations they took turns waiting with the car and going inside to grab drinks and hit the head.

In a lot of ways, it was easy.

In their own heads, though, they worried the issue constantly, spinning around and around in their own minds. Things hadn’t ended nice when Sam had left for Stanford- too many things had been said, and at the same time, too many important things hadn’t. 

To Sam it felt like being sixteen all over again- awkward and self-conscious, painfully aware of his beautiful older brother, wondering who would make the first move. 

To Dean- well, he couldn’t kill it, so it was something he planned to ignore. 

The danced around the issue- this tangible thing, an almost-visible connection between the two of them- all through the hunt for the Wendigo. They caught more than a few looks from Collins siblings, mostly confused glances-  _who are these guys, why are they helping us, how do they know what that thing is, what is their deal??-_ and they knew they deserved them.

They sat too close to each other around the fire; during the hunt they cued to each other non verbally, they fell asleep propped side-by-side against the tree.

When Dean was taken Sam practically left the remaining Collins sister behind in his single minded determination to get his brother back. He resolved then- following the trail of buttons and candy that Dean had left them- that this  _thing_ with him and Dean was going to be resolved, one way or the other, that night.

It was.

Sam found Dean- battered but still almost inhumanly beautiful- leaning against the Impala, the red light of the ambulance strobing eerie shadows across his freckled face.

“Hey,” he said, hunching his shoulders against the late-October wind blowing down out of the mountains. 

“Hey,” Dean mumbled, swinging himself down into the car. 

“You did pretty good for a guy who hasn’t been on a real hunt in four years,” Dean said as he cranked the ignition (the gravel crunching under their tires almost covered the sound of legos rattling in the heating vents). 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t the one who got my ass snatched,” Sam fired back, knowing that this was comfortable for them, that this was familiar ground not steeped with pain and guilt and  _want._  

It was quiet in the car for a few minutes- no radio, no jokes, no light snores of a sleeping Winchester. 

“Pull over, Dean,” Sam said as the car passed another little feeder road that le back up into the park. “Pull over.”

Dean did, rolling his eyes, getting his snark all ready for the inevitable “chick flick” moment.

“We gonna talk about our feelings now Sammy?” He griped, turning onto a beaten dirt path and putting the car in neutral. “Gonna talk about how when you left it wasn’t  _me_ you were leaving, you were just trying to get somewhere else? How you don’t want me now that you’ve been away, loved a good girl?”

“Nope.”

Dean’s bravado faltered before slipping back in place. “Then what’re we wasting time for? Dad’s out there somewhere.”

Deanw went to put the car in reverse, but Sam intercepted him. Sam’s hand fisted in Dean’s hair and yanked him up against Sam’s mouth.”

“What the hell Sam?” Dean asked when he broke contact. 

“You know. Get out of the car.”

“What?” Dean stayed right where he was. Sam opened the passenger door and got out. “Come one, Dean. Out.”

Dean slid off the seat when Sam knocked insistently on the driver’s side window. “We gonna wrassle?” he asked sarcastically.

“Only if you want it that way,” Sam shot back, not a trace of humor in his voice. He kissed Dean again, fingers working away at his belt. 

“Sam, fuck, what are you doing?” 

“You know what I’m doing. It’s been four years, Dean, four fucking years, and these last couple weeks have killed me. I’m sorry I hurt you when I left, but you’ve got to let that go now.”

The answer that Dean had been formulating flew out the window when Sam’s mouth, wet and hot, closed around his dick. Sam’s head bobbed, and Dean reached down to push back Sam’s bangs so he could get a better look-  _yeah, fuck Sammy._

Right before Dean came Sam popped his mouth off with a smack, rose to his feet, and turned Dean around to face the car. “What the hell Sam!”

Dean was disappointed at his orgasm missed.

“Patience, Dean, you never did have any.”

Sam worked two fingers into Dean’s ass. “Hang on, let me get the lube out of the glove box.”

When Sam ducked back out of the car he was staggered by the picture Dean made- broad legs spread, tight ass bare, arms braced on the frame of the Impala, shoulders wide and set.

He slicked his fingers, worked them back into the tight heat of his brother, his teeth set against the arousal thrumming through him- in a minute his cock would be snugged where his fingers now were, he’d be all wrapped up in Dean.

That thought had him pulling his fingers out of his brother- too soon, he knew, but he couldn’t wait any more- and forcing the head of his throbbing dick past the first ring of muscle in Dean’s ass.

“Sam, fuck,” Dean hissed, jolting at the burn and stretch. 

Sam, now inside his brother, was content to let Dean adjust to the stretch of this intrusion. He smoothed a little more lube around Dean’s asshole, over his own shaft, and then worked his way deeper into Dean one little thrust at a time.

Eventually it felt like Sam was in Dean up to his eyeballs, and fuck if that didn’t hurt so good. It had been four years since he had been taken like this (there had been girls for both of them, but not  _this)_  and Dean liked it. 

Sam began setting up a rhythm in earnest and Dean braced his hands against the frame of the car- each backwards drag of Sam’s cock seemed to hit over that spot-  _that’s the prostate_ Sam had said back in their early days- that made Dean’s toes curl in his boots. 

“Oh, fuck, Sammy,” he murmured, hand going to his dripping cock, sliding in time with the rock of Sam’s hips. 

“Yeah, Dean, just like that,” Sam panted, eyes fixed on the place where he entered his brother, his lover.

Sam felt his balls drawing up, and he gritted his teeth, hoping to god that Dean came soon- there, thank god. Sam gripped his brother’s hips hard enough to bruise, thrust in powerfully enough to rock Dean up onto his toes, and followed his brother into pleasure. 

“We good now?” he panted into the freckled skin of Dean’s shoulder blade.

“Yeah.” Dean swallowed thickly. “We’re good.”


End file.
